my heart sore in my ribs
by lecornergirl
Summary: Jess has learned to live with the hole in his heart, the one with a distinct Rory shape to it. Just because he's used to it, though, doesn't mean he's prepared to run into her, completely out of the blue and completely point-blank, on the streets of New York one Tuesday in November. Canon divergent, not AYITL compliant. [cross-posted from AO3]


Jess has learned to live with the hole in his heart, the one with a distinct Rory shape to it.

He tried to ignore it at first. He tried to deny that it existed. He went on dates with other girls, telling himself there was a real chance it might lead to something. He told his uncle that he was definitely over Rory, and laughed like the thought of still being hung up on her was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. He went about his life acting like every book he read didn't come pre-annotated with her imagined impressions, like every movie he saw wasn't lacklustre for the lack of her commentary, like love songs didn't punch him in the gut every time.

And it worked, for a time. It worked all the way up until Rory came to the open house and from the second he saw her, he felt awake and _alive_ for the first time in months, like he hadn't even realised he'd been sleepwalking for months until she snapped him out of it. But Rory came to the open house to kiss him and tell him she was still in love with Logan.

Jess likes to think he held it together pretty well while Rory was still there. But then she left, and he tracked down Chris and Matthew at whatever bar they'd ended up at. He drank a lot and talked a lot, and Chris and Matthew tried to listen and understand as best they could, but Jess wasn't sure they did, really.

That was the day that Jess had accepted that the Rory-shaped hole would always be there.

Accepting it, strangely enough, makes it easier to live with. It's just a part of him now, something he gets used to. It's like when you lose a tooth and at first the gap feels weird, but with time your tongue gets acquainted with the new shape of your teeth and you can't tell the gap is there unless you go looking. It's just how things are.

Jess googles her name and reads some of her pieces every now and then, and Luke keeps him broadly up to date on what's going on in her life. He goes home from bars with girls sometimes, but makes it clear it's not going anywhere beyond the next couple of hours and a horizontal surface. He lets himself think about her when he goes back to the books they used to read together, and it just becomes a part of life.

Just because he's used to it, though, doesn't mean he's prepared to run into Rory, completely out of the blue and completely point-blank, on the streets of New York one Tuesday in November.

Jess is in New York scouting out potential spaces for a new Truncheon Books location. Some months ago, Luke told him Rory had moved to New York, but he hadn't thought—more people live in New York than in the entire state of Connecticut, what were the chances of running into one specific person, completely by chance? And yet all he has to do is turn a corner, and there she is.

_Apparently the fucking universe just has it out for me_, he thinks, grabbing Rory's arm to prevent her from toppling over. It's instinctive, more than anything, but he's finding it hard to let go.

"Thanks—" Rory starts, and then she looks up, seeing him for the first time. "Jess."

The sound of his name on her lips sends tingles down his spine and he almost wants to laugh at himself, because, _honestly_. He hasn't even seen her in, what, three years? Four? And yet he might as well by seventeen again for how enthralled by this girl he still is. It's all kinds of ridiculous, really.

Rory looks like she always has but at the same time she doesn't, like his memory and his imagination are superimposing the way she looked when they first fell in love on top of the way she looks now. Her hair is a little shorter than it was back then, and her features seem sharper, somehow, like she's grown into them.

"What are you doing here?" Rory asks, and he realises he's been so preoccupied with just looking at her that he hasn't actually said anything yet.

"Uh, Truncheon's looking for a second location," he says, and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets so he won't be tempted to touch her again. "Chris and Matthew volunteered me as scout, since I have the home court advantage."

"That's right," she says, "I'd almost forgotten you were from here."

They stand in awkward silence for a moment, until Jess finds an appropriate thread of conversation to pick up on. "So, Luke told me you moved here?"

"Yeah, I got an apartment in Queens at the end of summer. I'm still freelancing, but more locally now. None of that campaign nonsense. And, I mean, I travel sometimes, but it's not the same—" she cuts herself off, looking a little embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

Jess smiles, and it warms him somewhere in the deepest recesses of his heart that she's nervous, too. She doesn't quite know what to make of the situation either. Maybe that means she's not completely indifferent to him.

"How are you liking New York?" he asks.

"It's… a lot," she says.

He snorts. "Hope you're more eloquent in your articles, Gilmore."

"I was getting there!" she huffs, but she's laughing. "I don't know, it's New York. It's big and chaotic and there's a lot of people and a lot of things happening all of the time. But I love it. It's much better for late-night pizza cravings than Stars Hollow."

"That's your metric?"

"It's one of them," she says, and tucks some hair behind her ear. Jess tries not to follow her hand with his gaze, because it feels a little bit creepy.

He's wondering how to gracefully end this encounter when Rory says suddenly, "are you busy right now? Got any acute locations to scope out?"

"None more today."

"Do you want to get coffee?" she asks, and he grins. He's not ready to just walk away from her again, not yet.

"We've been standing here for a couple of minutes, you must be in withdrawal already," he says.

Rory laughs. "You haven't seen me in years, my coffee consumption could have decreased dramatically."

"The universe hasn't imploded yet, so I doubt it," Jess says seriously.

"Let's just go," Rory says, and Jess follows her, because there are no circumstances in which he wouldn't.

They walk to a nearby cafe and he feels like a goddamn middle schooler, but he might be paying slightly too much attention to how close to her he's walking, to the times his fingers brush hers and he has to concentrate to keep from taking her hand like it's second nature, still, after all these years.

Rory goes to get the coffee while Jess grabs a table, the familiar division of labour still instinctive and instantaneous. He watches her order, watches her chat with the barista, her laughter at some undoubtedly mediocre joke brightening the entire space.

Rory heads back towards the table and he tells himself to get a grip, because today they're just old friends catching up. They're not seventeen and in love, they're twenty-five and discussing their very separate lives. But some things never change, because after the initial moments of awkwardness their dynamic is just the same as it's ever been, the fast-paced give-and-take that no one else could ever keep up with, with the possible exception of Lorelai.

Some things, apparently, do change, because at one point Rory says something so astonishing he's tempted to pinch himself. "You know, I read some Hemingway the other day and I didn't completely hate it."

"Is that so?" Jess asks, grinning. "Which one was it?"

"_The Old Man and the Sea_. But before you get too excited—I know people think it's this whole deep metaphor about man and nature and everything, but I'm choosing to read it as the deeply relatable tale of someone who made a decision, realised it wasn't necessarily the greatest decision, and then doubled down instead of just admitting that it wasn't the smartest decision to make."

Jess snorts. "Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that." Before she can say anything else, he adds, "Ayn Rand is still a political nut, though, and I'm not going anywhere near _The Fountainhead_ again."

"That's your prerogative."

The conversation lags for a moment, and Jess scrambles, still not ready to let her go. He knows he'll have to, eventually, but for as long as he can keep her here— "Hey, got anywhere to be?"

"Nowhere that'll notice if I'm gone."

"There's something I want to show you."

He takes her to the Met, and Rory looks sideways at him. "Just trust me," he says, and leads her through the exhibits, navigating the turns from memory. He stops in front of the painting and turns to look at Rory, watching her take it in.

"I came here on a field trip once," he says, the first time he's volunteered this information to anyone. "I liked this one, so I kept coming back. If Liz was having a particularly bad day, or whatever."

Rory looks at him, curious. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I'm not really sure," he says, honest. "It seemed like a good idea when I thought of it. I guess I just wanted to show you a piece of my New York."

"Thank you," she says, voice full of genuine emotion.

They wander around some of the other exhibits, dodging tourists and coming up with their own interpretations of what's happening in the paintings. A school group nearly separates them, and Jess grabs Rory's hand to keep her on his side of the swarm of children. When they disperse, she doesn't let go.

Back outside, on the steps of the Met, Rory suggests they get dinner. She says knows a place she wants to take him but it's a little far to walk, so they take the subway. All the trains are crowded at this hour, and Jess ends up standing with Rory pressed into him, his arm flying up to keep her from falling every five seconds. Eventually he just leaves his arm where it is, around her waist and keeping her firmly against him. It's a unique kind of torture, really, especially when she leans her head back against his shoulder and lets out a little sigh.

The place Rory takes them to is a small taqueria, little more than a hole in the wall. Jess thinks the food is good, but he can't remember what he ordered or much of what they talk about because under the table, Rory entwines her feet with his.

He resolves to say something to her about it when they leave but he doesn't get the chance, because they've barely turned the corner when Rory stops him and reaches up to kiss him.

It takes him a moment to react, a moment where his arms automatically wrap around her and his hand instinctively tangles in her hair. But he comes to his senses and detaches himself gently, staring at her and trying to remind himself why this is a terrible idea of epic proportions.

"I'm sorry," Rory says, rejection dripping from every word, "I thought—"

"Rory, I can't," he says, willing her to understand what he means so he doesn't have to bare his entire soul to her. But she stays silent, so he continues. "I can't do just one night with you. There wouldn't be anything left of me in the morning."

Rory puts a hand on his cheek. "Have you always been this dramatic?" she wonders.

"I did write a book," Jess points out.

"You also left the state to avoid having a conversation with me," she adds. "That's pretty dramatic." Jess winces. "Sorry, not the point."

"What is the point?" Jess asks, because her hand is still on his cheek and that seems like a good sign to him but he's trying not to be too hopeful. Historically, that hasn't always ended well for him.

"The point, drama queen, is that I'm not just looking for one night." She might have had more to say but he's kissing her now, his heart feeling lighter than it has in years. It's not a confession of love or anything but it's a start, it's something he can work with, it's an invitation to be in her life and to kiss her whenever he wants.

He's leaning against the wall and about to get carried away, but Rory stops him with a hand on his chest. "My apartment is only a few blocks from here."

"Ah, so you had ulterior motives bringing me here, did you?"

"I don't see you complaining," she retorts, and she's absolutely correct.

Rory's apartment is nice and fairly spacious for New York, but Jess doesn't do much looking around. He spots a bookshelf and makes a mental note to check it out in the morning, but most of his attention is focused on the several complicated buttons on Rory's winter jacket. She tries to help him but loses her balance, and they land in giggling a pile on the floor. Jess helps Rory to her feet and she finally manages to get rid of the jacket, pulling off her sweater as well for good measure.

She leads him to the bedroom and he follows willingly. The rational part of him thinks about how he's been waiting for this for eight years now and he should probably pace himself, but the rational part of him isn't the part seeing Rory transcendent in the glow of the streetlights through the crack in the curtains. He's never been very good at listening to the rational part of himself anyway.

Jess stands next to the bed with her and feels like a teenager, so eager to get his hands everywhere he hardly knows where to start. But he's not a teenager and he has done this before. He pulls her on to the bed with him, covering her body with his and pushing a leg between hers. She bucks her hips instantly, instinctively, and Jess smirks. "Give me a second, I got you."

Rory's still wearing her jeans. Jess gets rid of them and slips his hand inside her underwear, swearing softly at how ready she already is. "Christ, Rory."

He thinks maybe it should be surreal, this thing he's been wanting for so long, but Rory's writhing beneath him and gasping quietly and every time he closes his eyes he can hear her saying _I'm not just looking for one night_ and it feels viscerally real.

Jess can feel that Rory's close but she grabs his wrist, forcing him to still his hand. "I want you in me," she whispers. Jess has never in his life located and put on a condom so quickly.

Rory's so close that the first one barely takes any time at all. Jess doesn't stop, but acquiesces when Rory starts to roll them over. And, fuck, he's never seen anything this beautiful: Rory, straddling him, set aglow by the beam of the streetlight just outside her window like a spotlight rigged just for them. He truly doesn't know if it's the visual or the pulsing of Rory's second orgasm around him that pushes him over the edge.

* * *

Jess gets a fair amount of shit when he goes back to Philadelphia and tells Chris and Matthew that he's found them a New York location and that he volunteers to move there to head up the branch so he can be close to his girlfriend. But they both know how it is with him and Rory, so of course they agree. Six months later Truncheon Books New York holds its first open house, and after this one Jess doesn't need a distillery's worth of whiskey to stop thinking about Rory, because he gets to go home to her.


End file.
